Changing of the Guard at Antaeus Company

The Antaeus Company reports that, in the aftermath of Jeanie Hackett stepping down as artistic director after eight years, the troupe "will be led by a team of interim co-artistic directors: company members Tony Amendola, Rob Nagle and John Sloan. Kathleen Eads Orbach has been hired as the new Managing Director. This new team will oversee the company's fall production of Noel Coward's Peace in Our Time

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum Music and lyrics by Stephen Sondheim, book by Burt Shevelove and Larry Gelbart. Fridays, Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays, 2 p.m. Continues through Sept. 3. Long Beach Playhouse, 5021 E. Anaheim St., Long Beach, (562) 494-1014, lbph.com.

GO On Golden Pond Ernest Thompson's original play lacks the high drama of its famous film counterpart, but has all the heart. The tale concerns Norman and Ethel Thayer, an aging couple vacationing on a lake for perhaps their last time, returned to some youthful vigor by the arrival of a 13-year-old step-grandson. While guilty of overt sentimentality, Thompson's script creates expertly drawn characters. The joy of this revival, so ably directed by Cameron Watson, is in its impeccable production values, which begin with the casting of the elderly leads. Watching old pros Hal Linden and Christina Pickles navigate through a constantly changing stream of bickering, loving and alternately fearing or bravely facing death is a mini-course in consummate acting. John Iacovelli's intricately designed country summer home, meticulously dressed by MacAndME, complements this thoroughly satisfying event. Into the mix comes fine teen actor Nicholas Podany, who holds his own with the veterans, finding multiple dimensions of adolescence. Monette Magrath also turns in a fine performance as the Thayer's aggrieved daughter, Chelsea, come to make peace with her father. Only Jonathan Stewart is out of place as Chelsea's nervous fiancé; his stressful performance seems to belong in a French farce. (Tom Provenzano). Sundays, 2 p.m.; Thursdays, Fridays, 8 p.m.; Saturdays, 3 & 8 p.m. Continues through Aug. 28. Colony Theatre, 555 N. Third St., Burbank, (818) 558-7000, colonytheatre.org.

GO Rose Cottages With its towering trees, intermittent birdsong and starry ceiling, Theatricum Botanicum's bucolic amphitheater is a wonderfully ironic venue for a play set in a dumpy tourist motel in South Florida. Theatricum's production marks the West Coast premiere of playwright Bill Bozzone's slightly offbeat, somewhat sentimental comedy about the human urge to form replacement families when our families of origin and matrimony disappoint or disappear. Rose (an inspired Earnestine Phillips) fears her dilapidated motel will be shuttered when a health inspector (Maurice Shaw) notes faulty plumbing and other violations. Panicked and pissed off, Rose begins to rebuild hope when Jessie (Ellen Geer), a motel guest abandoned by her New Jersey cop son (Aaron Hendry) and his selfish, tarty wife (Savannah Southern Smith), befriends her. Enter Lydell (Graco Hernandez), a lonely teen with a knack for odd jobs, who completes the reconstructed family unit. Bozzone worked with Theatricum and rewrote the role of Rose as female, a choice that adds a nice layer of complexity to the already plucky script. Though the story veers toward oversimplification of human pain at times, Bozzone smartly redeems sappy situations with left-of-center humor. When Lydell reveals to Rose that his father is a complete zero, for instance, we expect tears and tales of tattered rainbows; instead we get an entirely unexpected story about dad's feigned shooting of Santa Claus, and it's a scream. The cast is solid across the board, with Geer and Phillips winning equal leading-lady kudos for layering their characters. Heidi Helen Davis directs with straightforward simplicity, though the pacing lags near play's end. (Amy Lyons). Sat., Aug. 20, 4 p.m.; Sun., Aug. 21, 3:30 p.m.; Fri., Aug. 26, 8 p.m.; Sat., Aug. 27, 4 p.m.; Sat., Sept. 3, 8 p.m.; Sun., Sept. 4, 7:30 p.m.; Sun., Sept. 11, 7:30 p.m.; Sat., Sept. 17, 8 p.m.; Sat., Sept. 24, 8 p.m.; Sat., Oct. 1, 8 p.m.; Sun., Oct. 2, 7:30 p.m. Will Geer Theatricum Botanicum, 1419 N. Topanga Canyon Blvd., Topanga, (310) 455-3723, theatricum.com.

Tartuffe, ou l'Imposteur In a sense, Molière's immortal skewering of religious hypocrisy is the Jaguar XK-E of high-performance stage comedies: Its classic lines and comic engineering are readily apparent even when parked, but it is only when humming in the hands of a skilled driver that its true genius finds full expression. Regrettably, with director-adaptor Ellen Geer behind the wheel, this out-of-tune Tartuffe sputters like it's blown a head gasket. Geer tricks out her period-dress (Val Miller's fine costumes), drawing-room production with a handful of original songs (Geer's music, Peter Alsop's lyrics) and the conceit that it is a command performance for Louis XIV, which cleverly sets up the deus ex machina dénouement. But lackluster laughs suggest the incisive, anarchic soul of Molière has all but eluded her. It's not for want of trying. Her ensemble of eminently capable, veteran classicists huff and puff their way through each slapstick Geer throws at them. Yet somehow, Orgon (Ted Barton) merely blusters, Dorine (Willow Geer) grates and Elmire (Misha Bouvion) fades in the clinches. Happily, Aaron Hendry's brilliantly realized Tartuffe is the show-saving exception. Hendry's expressions of agonized piety as he screws Orgon out of house and home is the evening's crowning and excruciatingly hilarious achievement. Daniel Billet also injects rousing physical comedy into his portrait of the hotheaded son, Damis. Even these performances finally prove powerless against Ellen Geer's penchant for filling every nook and cranny of the Botanicum's awkwardly expansive space with business. Her blocking alone suffocates Moliére's funniest set pieces and produces the most irritatingly drawn-out entrances and exits ever seen on a stage. (Bill Raden). Sun., Aug. 21, 7:30 p.m.; Sun., Aug. 28, 7:30 p.m.; Fridays, 8 p.m.; Sat., Oct. 1, 4 p.m. Continues through Sept. 30. Will Geer Theatricum Botanicum, 1419 N. Topanga Canyon Blvd., Topanga, (310) 455-3723, theatricum.com.

Richard III Following a couple of progressive festivals, RADAR LA and Hollywood Fringe, with a traditional staging of Shakespeare is like following a gastronomically experimental meal with a bowl of plain vanilla ice cream. It's fine, of course, but you really were hoping for the ice cream to taste like foie gras or something equally surprising. Maybe if Melora Marshall had been playing the title role --director Ellen Geer has employed cross-gender casting -- on opening night, the production wouldn't have seemed so pedestrian both conceptually and in pace. But the play, second only to Hamlet in length, needs the kind of sprightly staging that a theatre carved into the hills of Topanga Canyon just can't support. Unfortunately, the production seems to offset its innate weaknesses with overacting. From the opening monologue, Chad Jason Scheppner's Richard spends more time mugging for the audience than allowing Shakespeare's already wry verse and textual characterization of Richard as anti-hero do their work naturally -- a real shame, considering the glimpses of talent that peek out from beneath this schtick. A couple of actors fare better (notably Earnestine Phillips, whose dagger-throwing delivery works with the vitriol she spits), but none enough to make you glad you stayed for dessert. (Rebecca Haithcoat). Fri., Aug. 19, 8 p.m.; Sun., Aug. 28, 3:30 p.m.; Mon., Aug. 29, 3:30 p.m.; Sun., Sept. 4, 3:30 p.m.; Sun., Sept. 11, 3:30 p.m.; Sat., Sept. 17, 4 p.m.; Sun., Sept. 18, 7:30 p.m.; Sat., Sept. 24, 4 p.m.; Sun., Sept. 25, 7:30 p.m.; Sun., Oct. 2, 3:30 p.m. Will Geer Theatricum Botanicum, 1419 N. Topanga Canyon Blvd., Topanga, (310) 455-3723, theatricum.com.

CONTINUING PERFORMANCES IN SMALLER THEATERS SITUATED IN HOLLYWOOD, WEST HOLLYWOOD AND THE DOWNTOWN AREAS

GO Come Together: A Beatles Cabaret Having seen this show some time ago, it's good to report that a number of rough edges have been smoothened, so that this cabaret-style tribute to the music of the Beatles returns in fine form. This go-round, instead of a bland backdrop, the stage is festooned with a colorful collage of posters from the group's albums and individual concerts. Also, in this version there are four actors (two men, two women) instead of six, which makes for a smoother run and less distraction. Some new songs have been added, but the bulk of the selections are the Beatles' popular love songs, which Marc Ginsburg, Betsy Hammer, Victoria Summer and John Szura sing with nary a missed note under James Carey's direction. What really makes this show is the laid-back, cabaret atmosphere, which was completely absent before. Also added are a few well-timed gags. The instrumental soundtrack has undergone a few tweaks as well -- it's a tad more conventional, but it makes for easy listening. Some highlights are "If I Fell," flawlessly rendered by Ginsburg; "Hello" and "Come Together" performed by the group; and "We Can Work it Out," sung by Szura. (Lovell Estell III). Fridays, Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays, 3 p.m. Continues through Aug. 28. The Attic Theatre and Film Center, 5429 W. Washington Blvd., L.A., (323) 525-0661, attictheatre.org.

GO Dysnomia The play's title refers to a Greek goddess associated with disruption, which is just what befalls the family on display in Marja-Lewis Ryan's fine dramedy. Henry and Mary's (Heidi Sulzman and Trevor H. Olsen) longtime marriage has yielded good jobs, a comfortable suburban life and two attractive children. But angst and boredom have taken over Mary's life, and she can't shake the feeling that something is missing, until she has a casual chat with a friend's lesbian daughter (Ryan). It's obvious at this point what the missing "something" is in Mary's life, and she eventually decides to out herself to friends and family, resulting in moments of hilarity and disquieting expressiveness. Henry implodes into rage and steadfast denial; her friend Carol (Jessie Warner) nearly has a panic attack; Mary's troubled teenage son, John (Ryan Stathos), mirroring his father, becomes a cauldron of rage and resentment; precocious daughter Jodi (the outstanding Isabella Palmieri) handles the situation with seasoned, adult aplomb. Ryan's play is all about being true to oneself, and she makes the point without being shallow or preachy with a text that strikes just the right balance between darkness and light and also is refreshingly forthright. Cast performances are equally fine under Anthony Frisina's direction. It all unfurls neatly on Michael Fitzgerald's serviceable, lived-in kitchen set design. Rounding out the cast is Monroe Makowsky as Carol's husband, Scott. (Lovell Estell III). Fridays, Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays, 7 p.m. Continues through Sept. 10, plays411.com/dysnomia. Lounge Theatre, 6201 Santa Monica Blvd., L.A., (323) 469-9988.

Life in the Middle Ages Writer-standup comic Steve Ochs' megapersonal solo show about the inevitable outcome of aging deploys a faux-medieval fairy tale -- projected overhead in Pythonesque mode, drolly narrated by Wendy Cutler -- to contextualize his trek through Elizabeth Kübler-Ross' five stages of grief. The amiably irreverent, quip-happy Ochs aims to help viewers follow his lead and make peace with the Grim Reaper. Yet his relentlessly facile text yields few fresh insights that couldn't be found at a new age retreat or Comedy Store benefit night. That said, the attending audience chortled throughout and seemed truly touched by Ochs' beatific guided meditation final. (David Nichols). Fridays, 8 p.m. Continues through Aug. 26. Theatre Asylum, 6320 Santa Monica Blvd., L.A., (323) 962-1632.

Life on This Couch Remember the episode of Sex and the City where Carrie was grasping for column ideas and threw out socks missing their mates as a possible analogy? More than a whiff of that reaching clings to Laura Richardson's living room couch-centered new comedy in Open Fist's First Look Festival. The play begins with promise: Desiree (the likable Stephanie Erb) shows up at the apartment of her sister, Cece (Katy Tyszkiewicz), with a big bag and little explanation of how long she plans to stay. The dialogue is humorous, a thinly veiled tiptoeing around the real question you want to ask but can't of family houseguests: "How long are you going to interrupt my present with our past?" Director Benjamin Burdick controls the pace, making a rapid-fire duel over Cece's eating habits much funnier than the subject matter warrants. But while Richardson writes wacky but not unbelievable characters (as Cece's boyfriend, Conor Lane's sweetly goofy Skeez is a stoner Starbucks barista in acupuncture school) and captures their family dynamic, the story gets lost and never finds its way out. Too many storylines -- a flighty mother for whom Cece harbors irrational anger, a dying aunt, Cece's serious OCD, Desiree's carload of unresolved problems -- clutter up the stage, but the real problem is the lack of any one strong enough to carry the show. An unfunny dream sequence is supposed to absolve Desiree of her past, but the real groan comes after the weak comparison of Cece's couch to people. The sisters manage an unsatisfying resolution that ostensibly explains Cece's outrageous bitchiness, but more than a few quickie clean-ups are needed to salvage this Couch. (Rebecca Haithcoat). Fri., Aug. 19, 8 p.m.; Sat., Aug. 20, 8 p.m.; Thu., Aug. 25, 8 p.m.; Wed., Aug. 31, 8 p.m.; Sun., Sept. 4, 2 p.m.; Wed., Sept. 7, 8 p.m.; Thu., Sept. 8, 8 p.m.; Fri., Sept. 9, 8 p.m.; Sat., Sept. 10, 2 p.m. Open Fist Theatre, 6209 Santa Monica Blvd., L.A., (323) 882-6912, openfist.org.

GO Moby Dick Rehearsed In 1955, Orson Welles' obsession with the extraordinary resulted in this fascinating play, starring himself as a 19th-century actor-producer who puts aside a production of King Lear to assay his adaptation of Melville's masterwork. Gathering his actors who have learned their parts by rote, he asks them to rehearse by improvising staging, using anything at hand to represent the whale ship Pequod on its dangerous mission to catch the great white whale. Director Aliah Whitmore's vision, beautifully realized by production designer Jacob Whitmore and lighting designer Grant Dunn, creates a vivid visual impression of 1860 artists. A fine cast, most notable James Whitmore Jr. as the pertinacious whale hunter Captain Ahab and Dustin Seavey as the gentle narrator/sailor Ishmael, breathe humanity into Melville's strenuous prose. The otherwise extraordinary production's only flaw is that the performers too easily fulfill the difficult task of physical improvisation, denying the illusion that this is the first time this play is being given life. (Tom Provenzano). Thursdays-Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays, 3 p.m. Continues through Aug. 28. Lyric Theatre, 520 N. La Brea Ave., L.A., lyrictheatrela.com.

Othello Arguments have raged for centuries over the enigma that is Iago, Shakespeare's most renowned portrait of incarnate evil. Why, exactly, does the villainous ensign turn his considerable creative energies to engineering the fall of his noble general? Director-adaptor Tiger Reel advances a new theory in this provocative modern-dress production: Iago's malevolence is a symptom of post-traumatic stress disorder. In a bit of bravura, preshow pantomime, Reel stages an Abu Ghraib-esque army torture scene in which Othello (a sturdy Victor Dickerson) oversees a blasé Iago (the marvelous Jim Hanna) "interrogating" a prisoner on the same platform that later will serve as the fateful marriage bed for Othello and Desdemona (Abbie Cobb). Though the comparison between 16th-century Venice and our more recent military unpleasantness might sound somewhat strained, Reel bolsters his case by pruning back some of Othello's more ennobling early speeches to create one of the bleakest portrayals of the Moor in recent memory. The cuts tend to hamstring Dickerson, who comes off as something of a highly strung U.S. Marine martinet, but they also turn the play over to Iago and hand Hanna the role of a lifetime. The actor imbues the character with an enervated, sociopathic world-weariness that reads as both comic exasperation in his scenes with Roderigo (Sean Spann) and the whiff of a humanizing conscience in his soliloquies. While Reel's argument is finally more facile than convincing, his elegant, futuristic production design and Matt Richter's expressive lights make swallowing it a not-unpalatable experience. (Bill Raden). Thursdays-Saturdays, 8 p.m. Continues through Aug. 20, (800) 838-3006, theprodco.com. Lex Theatre, 6760 Lexington Ave., L.A..

Poison Apple Sean Galuszka's low-key suspense drama is set in an apartment in New York City's Hell's Kitchen. There's a violent banging on the door and Paul (Chris Sams) emerges from the bathroom, wearing yellow rubber gloves and carrying a spray bottle. He seems nebbishy, yet there's something sinister about him. He carefully takes his time before answering the door. When he opens it, a hooded man bursts in. Paul sprays him in the eyes. After a brief contretemps, it emerges that the stranger is Jerry (author Galuszka), a friend of Paul's female roommate. Learning she's not at home, Jerry asks if he can wait for her. Paul grudgingly agrees, and proceeds to serve him tea. An increasingly edgy conversation ensues, and the appearance of a lethal-looking butcher knife and a saw hint at violence. Clearly more is going on than meets the eye, including a sexual attraction between the two men. By the end, the play proves to be a love story as well as a tale of homicide. The play is a carefully controlled -- perhaps too carefully controlled -- exercise in suspense. Director Susan Lambert skillfully charts the gradual emergence of the macabre facts, and the two actors cannily play off one another to keep the tension building. (Neal Weaver). Fridays, Saturdays, 8 p.m. Continues through Aug. 20, brownpapertickets.com/event/185973. SPACE 916, 916 N. Formosa Ave., L.A..

Quake A wife and mother dies on Sept. 11, felled not by bin Laden but by breast cancer. Four years later, this period piece -- its setting circa 2005 made obvious by the thick laptops and dumbphones -- picks up with her husband, Artie (Ray Abruzzo), and daughter, Robbie (Maxie Solters), still reeling. Partially because of playwright D. Tucker Smith's intriguing premise of sadness overshadowed by national tragedy, but also because of the host of distractions welded onto the drama, the drama's weight drags its momentum to a crawl. Robbie, now 14, is acting out for reasons her dad only thinks he can't understand. (He likens his daughter to a Sunday crossword.) At his workplace, a second-tier department store suffering from the flight of disloyal online shoppers, CEO Artie becomes fascinated by a philosophical Armenian janitor (Stephanie Terronez) who sleeps on the store's patio furniture at night. Meanwhile, two customers, a 23-year-old naif (Alex Pierce) and a cynical vet (Marc Aden Gray), lock horns in a battle for turf. Their skirmishes with each other and with Artie draw blood. But Smith is stuck on creating a Glengarry Glen Grief, and the play's diffuse themes and scattered showers of exposition work against the good ideas buried in the material. As co-directors, Smith and Anjali Bhimani try to add impact with melodramatic movie-of-the-week music, another flourish that should be left behind if this premiere-with-potential retools for a second try. (Amy Nicholson). Sat., Aug. 20, 2 p.m.; Wed., Aug. 24, 8 p.m.; Sat., Aug. 27, 8 p.m. Open Fist Theatre, 6209 Santa Monica Blvd., L.A., (323) 882-6912, openfist.org. Also, See STAGE FEATURE.

So Damned Heavenly Bound/You Make Me Physically Ill Two new one-acts: Patty Wonderly's story of three sisters whose father has passed away, and Roger Mathey's tale of a man meeting the nightmarish family of the girl of his dreams. Fridays, Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays, 7 p.m. Continues through Sept. 10, (323) 960-7770, plays411.com/physicallyill. Elephant Space Theatre, 6322 Santa Monica Blvd., L.A., elephantstages.com.

Stones in His Pockets Tuta Theatre West presents Marie Jones' story of a bug-budget Hollywood film production taking over an Irish village, with 15 roles performed by two actors. Thursdays-Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Thursdays-Saturdays, 8 p.m. Continues through Sept. 17, (323) 960-7822, plays411.com/stones. Zephyr Theater, 7456 Melrose Ave., L.A..

Sun Sisters Vasanti Saxena's story of a mom with cancer and her lesbian daughter who returns home to take care of her. Fridays, Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays, 7 p.m. Continues through Aug. 28. Company of Angels at the Alexandria Hotel, 501 S. Spring St., Third Floor, L.A., (323) 489-3703, companyofangels.org.

Tweaked This undistinguished melodrama about junkies trying to break their habit gets a boost from several capable performances. Directed by Sean Riley, Paul Shoulberg's script revolves around roommates Charlotte (Isidora Goreshter) and Maddy (Robin Schultz), both addicted to crystal meth. Charlotte, a poet, frequents coffee houses where eventually she meets Lance (Jake Dahm), a good guy who falls for her and manages to overcome her jittery reticence. Maddy has it tougher; she's barred from seeing her young daughter by the child's father, Kyle (James Tyler Johnson), a buttoned-up Jesus fanatic whose air of calm righteousness masks rage and a desire to control. The other two men in their lives are their ultra strung-out pal Grogan (Shawn-Caulin Young) and their supplier Trey (Brent Harvey) a macho lowlife. The play is least interesting at the start, as the performers, not quite convincingly, depict their addiction and the physical changes they undergo struggling through withdrawal. It grows more involving as the story expands and other relationships develop. Both Dahm and Johnson deliver assured performances -- Dahm as a straight arrow and Johnson in the more complex role of a twisted puritan who fails to salve his anger with faith. Young also has a good scene as a guilt-ridden meth freak at the end of his rope, and Goreshter, after a shaky start, lands on track. Production resources are unfortunately limited at this workshop venue, making some of the staging less effective than it might have been otherwise. (Deborah Klugman). Fridays, Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays, 7 p.m. Continues through Aug. 21, (323) 960-7773, plays411.com/tweaked. Meta Theater, 7801 Melrose Ave., L.A..

The V Room This variety show is presented on the last Thursday of every month in a cabaret setting. This, its second installment, seemed a bit slapdash and lackadaisical. Two of the acts listed in the program -- a band and an experimental dance company -- did not appear, and there were many that did appear not listed in the program. An insistently gay emcee, Michael Mullen, spent so much time talking, milking the applause for every performer and hawking their CDs that it sometimes felt like an infomercial. Still, there was some talent. Ninja Betty and the Nunchix offered several numbers, including "You're a Big Star -- I'm a Star Fucker." Monologist Joy Nash delivered a comic excerpt from her Fringe show My Mobster, and Kristin Tower-Rowles (granddaughter of MGM musical star Kathryn Grayson) gave us a slick rendition of "Hollywood Baby" -- i.e., "Broadway Baby" with new lyrics. Musical duo Erica Katzin and David Ryan-Speer harmonized on "Loving You Is Easy" and "Mama, Rock Me." Other performers included wryly comic singer-composer Enrique Acosta, svelte song stylist Alissa Harris and comic Erich Wech. Charlene Modeste put a dark spin on "I Put a Spell on You," and musical comedy diva Veronica Scheyving performed a stylish rendition of "All the Good Men Are Gay." (Neal Weaver). Last Thursday of every month, 8 p.m. Continues through Oct. 27. MET Theatre, 1089 N. Oxford Ave., L.A., (323) 957-1152, theMETtheatre.com.

The Big Woogie: 4 Noir-Acts L.A. is the city of noir. Contrasted with sunshine and palm trees, the shadows seem even darker. Local writer Ray Ramos has penned and co-directed (with Stan Matasavage) these four sordid one-acts, each a tale of murder, betrayal and sometimes romance. In the circus melodrama that opens the show, a sexy palm reader (Cassie Moloney) incites her clown boyfriend (Gordon Alatorre) to violence, screeching, "You crazy, stupid fucking clown!" without a smear of irony. Then the show skips back to a slapstick bit set in the 1920s where actress Louise Brooks (Amanda Jones, cute and perkier than the public perception of the original) tries to cover up the accidental murder of Howard Hawks (Jim Pierce) by a nervous New York writer (David Lengel) channeling Harold Lloyd. The show closer and inspiration for the title is a weary bit of Vegas intrigue with a key prop inspired by Pulp Fiction's golden briefcase -- it's salvaged only by the perfect casting of Dina-Nicki Rassias as a dangerous dame. But the best-written piece comes just after inter-mission: a simple, claustrophobic thriller about an isolated invalid (Candice Martin) who turns on her favorite spooky radio program only to hear announcer Orson Welles describe her life right down to her name, handicap, flavor of tea she's sipping ... and the intruder who just broke in downstairs. Between skits, Ramos slinks out in a trench coat and fedora to give an epilogue to his own play before introducing the next act, killing time as the stagehands flip and bend Yuki Nakamura's smart but unwieldy set into submission by doing Bogart impressions and recommending the audience rent The Maltese Falcon and Double Indemnity. Ramos tries to talk with a wiseguy patter, but tellingly gets more laughs when he drops the act and merely sighs about one of his own characters, "What an asshole." Despite being one man's passion project, the evening seems oddly uncommitted to its theme -- the cast takes its curtain bow to Grease's "You're the One That I Want." (Amy Nicholson). Fridays, Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays, 7 p.m. Continues through Aug. 21, (855) 235-2867, fla.vor.us/bigwoogieproductions. Raven Playhouse, 5233 Lankershim Blvd., North Hollywood, ravenplayhouse.com.

Counter Men Imagine the cast of the sitcom Cheers as mostly ex-Marines. Now fast-forward 20 years, replace the Boston bar with a Glendale restaurant, and you'll have a pretty good feel for this world premiere by Chuck Faerber, whose clever title refers to both the function these men served in the military and the section of Mo-Par's where they park their keisters. Among them are Eddie (Alan Woolf), the elder statesmen who fought in Korea and is obsessed with the lottery; Carl (Bart Braverman), who served in Vietnam and has prostate problems; and Tim (Shelly Kurtz), the perennial jokester who lost his wife to cancer too soon. Doting on this shiftless trio is veteran waitress Joyelle (Marion Ramsey), whose no-nonsense exterior barely hides the paralyzing fear she feels for her son serving in Iraq. To pass the time, the three musketeers fawn over the antics of Mackie (Paul Haitkin), an actor between jobs who is entertaining precisely because he is young, dumb and full of ... patriotic bravo. There are a few plot points, such as Mackie's enlisting in the Navy and Joyelle confronting her worst fears, but the play is really a character piece, and a funny one at times. It even features some merry melodies, courtesy of Teo (Michael Uribes), the Filipino musician who sleeps in a booth with his synthesizer. Yet despite director Richard Kuhlman's impressive maneuvering of 14 actors in and out of scenes, the dearth of true drama leaves one wanting. Sure, there are some crackling fireworks along the way -- especially in the tense political moments between Braverman and Haitkin. However, the tension is undercut when all the loose ends are neatly tied up at the conclusion, just like in your favorite sitcom. (Mayank Keshaviah). Fridays, Saturdays, 8 p.m. Continues through Aug. 27, (323) 960-5521, plays411.com/countermen. Whitefire Theater, 13500 Ventura Blvd., Sherman Oaks, whitefiretheatre.com.

Jana Wimer

GO DEVILS LOVE AT MIDNIGHT

As

any longtime fan can testify, the Grand Guignol Gothicists of ZJU could

perform the phone book and make it look like a blood-curdling issue of

EC Comics. Fortunately for this short, late-night evening of original

playlets and poetry torn from the sketchbook of Zombie Joe himself, the

featured texts are nothing so prosaic. Rather, the seven pieces (mostly

GO Heavier Than... Spinning together and mixing up myths from Greek mythology, Steven Yockey crafts an enjoyable fable about love, hubris and human folly. The central character here is the Minotaur, Asterius (the sinewy Nick Ballard, sporting a gigantic pair of horns), a creature part bull and part man imprisoned in a mazelike labyrinth who, in this reimagining, is a sensitive beast tormented by dreams of his long-absent mother, Pasiphae (Jill Van Velzer), and a consuming love for his sister, Ariadne (Laura Howard). His isolation is somewhat assuaged by the divinatory powers and presence of the white-clad chorus (Ashanti Brown, Teya Patt, Katie Locke O'Brien), whose constant chatter and antics account for a good share of laughs throughout. More humor comes when the very gay Icarus (Casey Kringlen) drops in -- literally -- with wings shedding feathers (a portent of things to come), cracking jokes and incessantly hitting on Asterius. Yockey's clever script becomes somewhat puzzling toward show's end, but for most of this 75-minute piece, it is thoroughly engaging. Abigail Deser's fine direction brings out the best in her cast. Kurt Boecher's scenic design team adds a strong element of the rustic with a visually appealing assemblage of towering, crated rocks. Robert Prior's shadow puppets, wings and video design also are impressive, as is his simple mix of costumes. (Lovell Estell III). Thursdays-Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays, 2 p.m. Continues through Aug. 21. Boston Court, 70 N. Mentor Ave., Pasadena, (626) 683-6883, bostoncourt.org .

It's Just Sex Jeff Gould's comedy takes the underpinnings of sexual fantasy, fidelity and money and puts all of those nuances onstage in a contemporary comedy about three married couples. The wife-swapping plot is straight out of Hugh Hefner's pad, circa 1975. That the play resonates today, in the ashes of the sexual revolution, is one indication of how little has changed, despite how much has changed. (Steven Leigh Morris). Fridays, Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays, 7:30 p.m. Two Roads Theater, 4348 Tujunga Ave., Studio City, (818) 762-2272, tworoadsgallery.com.

NEXT WINDOW, PLEASE

Sherry Netherland

Five bank tellers and their nurturing manager, all female, are

distraught when they learn of a bank merger bringing potential layoffs.

The delicate balance of their workday relationships is further upset by

the arrival of an ambitious, charming and handsome junior executive

(Chris Wolfe) who, like a cat among the pigeons, shows up to observe for

a week and then advise his superiors who should keep their job.

Playwright Doug Haverty uses the small Santa Monica branch of a bank as

Force 12 With some intentionally ambiguous plays, you must never expect all the truth to be revealed. And so it is with poet playwrights Ron Allen and Jo D. Jonz's imaginative, if overly surreal tour de force. Using exchanges written in a heated blank verse that moodily meshes hip-hop with def poetry jam, the work appears to take place within the head of its narrator, a man who might be a poet or might be a madman. The character of Poet (Jonz, who also directs) wanders about on a Siddhartha-like journey, traveling within a metaphorical terrain known as "The Biosphere," as he finds himself interacting with dueling figures -- a motherly preacher (Nancy Solomons), who appears to represent the artistic side of his brain, and a Cruella De Vil-like villainess (Sharon Fane), who rules the more practical, negative side. There's also a sexy nymphet (Tiffany Rebecca Royale, in Foxy Brown wig) who represents his sexual desires and a woman named "Cannabis" (Garz Chan), who, wearing a diaphanous green shmatta, dances around the stage to symbolize the main character's love for the Delicious Herb (which he smokes constantly for medicinal reasons, of course). Although performer-director Jonz's production often demonstrates skillful stagecraft, particularly evident in Darcel Leonard's tight, beautifully dreamlike choreography and Dana Ric's effectively moody video sequences, the disjointed babble of the non sequitur writing inevitably wears thin and, occasionally, the work's earnestness comes across as ridiculous. In one scene, for instance, a woman comes out wearing a sort of silver fig-shaped bedpan and shrieks, "I am the queen of the vaginas!" In the drama's central narrator role, Jonz offers a fierce, energetic turn that is acrobatic, versatile and powerful -- even when we're not entirely sure what the heck he's up to. (Paul Birchall). Fridays, Saturdays, 8 p.m. Continues through Aug. 20, force12play.com. Electric Lodge, 1416 Electric Ave., Venice, (310) 306-1854, electriclodge.org.

GO 4.48 PSYCHOSIS

Justin Davanzo

Playwright

Sarah Kane's kaleidoscopic drama premiered shortly after her suicide in

2000. At the time, one British theater critic called the work a "70

minute suicide note" - and, of course, even with the best will in the

world, it is almost impossible to separate the intense and ferociously

angry text of the work from the tragic real world story surrounding it.

This is particularly true when you consider that the lyrical writing

overtly deals with issues of depression and mental illness from the

point of view of the sufferer - it may be one of the best plays to

depict suicidal depression from the inside out. Set, as the program

notes, "inside a deranged brain," the work consists of a series of

fragmented exchanges that often take the form of inchoate expressions of

rage twinned with frustrated awareness of a lack of control. A clearly

Genius From a Blue Collar Neighborhood With its reliance on the traditional tropes of the solo show genre, this autobiographical tale of a Midwestern heroine (writer-performer Maria Menozzi) who dreams of moving to the Big Apple and becoming a star runs the risk of being dismissed as somewhat trivial. However, it would be a mistake to do that, for the stock elements of Menozzi's show are unexpectedly leavened by undercurrents of pathos and wise melancholy -- a rarity in this kind of one-person effort. As she enters the stage, Menozzi, a clearly warm and laid-back figure, meets the eyes of almost every member of the audience, treating us less as passive viewers than as trusted friends and confidents. Her narrative, which unfolds gently in director Che'Rae Adams' intimate production, recounts memories of a blissfully happy Michigan childhood as the beloved daughter of working-class parents. While punctuating her stories with a series of Bruce Springsteen-like folk song numbers, Menozzi describes her brief sojourn in Manhattan before she returned home to Michigan after an illness and decided to go "straight" into careers in teaching and counseling. An interesting aspect of Menozzi's story is the underlying theme of forgiveness for decisions made and life paths chosen. Yet the details she presents do not necessarily make for compelling stagecraft -- it's hard to sustain much excitement during the description of Menozzi's flubbing a word during a spelling bee when she was 13, for instance. Additionally, her commendable message of midlife acceptance would be a lot more engaging if her story were not treated so guardedly -- we sense there is a lot of drama near, but the material Menozzi opts to share with us only hints at it. (Paul Birchall). Fridays, 8 p.m. Continues through Sept. 2, geniusfromabluecollarhood.com. Santa Monica Playhouse, 1211 Fourth St., Santa Monica, (310) 394-9779, santamonicaplayhouse.com.

GO Gospel According to First Squad Our first mistake was profiling the country's founding fathers as demigods in American history textbooks. Generations grew up believing George Washington was the equivalent of Christ himself -- neither did anything wrong, according to the bibles of both church and state. Vietnam veterans learned the hard way that life did not imitate the Gospels, but for every Born on the Fourth of July, there was another patriotic rally that elevated service to the country with service to God. Tom Burmester's electrifying, tight world premiere, the third in the Los Angeles Theatre Ensemble's War Cycle series (read Steven Leigh Morris' cover story from last August), not only confronts the error and crushing weight of ascribing immortality to mere men, but also examines the Catch-22 of the fraternity of soldiers. Yes, it's another war play, but the first act moves so swiftly and the themes are presented so seamlessly, you find yourself gasping rather than groaning. Burmester's characters could easily slip into caricature: Eric Anderson's redneck PFC Jackson is a Southern Christian's nightmare, quoting scripture and lecturing another soldier about his porn collection moments before he gleefully joins the terrifying, ritualistic chanting of, "Fuck that bitch!" But they all feel so familiar; you begin to realize these soldier stereotypes are, like all stereotypes, true on some level. Director Danika Sudik (aided by Burmester) controls the pace while allowing for necessary outbursts of the tightly coiled emotion and energy inside each solider, all of which are scary in a primal way. Which is, after all, the point. The army, like all fraternities, encourages herd mentality. It doesn't elevate man; it reduces him to his most animalistic instincts -- or so the military hopes, because only when men stop reflecting can they do what must be done to win. The entire ensemble is terrific, but special mention goes to Spencer Kramber's calm-before-cracking sergeant. (Rebecca Haithcoat). Thursdays-Saturdays, 8 p.m. Continues through Aug. 27. Powerhouse Theatre, 3116 Second St., Santa Monica, (310) 396-3680.

It Must Be Him What does a formerly successful TV writer do when he hits his 50s and can't sell a script? He writes a mildly amusing musical play about his woes. Although the medley of original songs (composed by Larry Grossman and Ryan Cunningham) doesn't appear until the last third of this 80-minute play, Kenny Solms' autobiographical comedy is mostly fun and frothy, and populated by just about every gay male stereotype you can name. Louie (David Pevsner) is all washed up. He's middle-aged, with a hot young boyfriend (Nick Cobey) who's leeching off him, a slacker assistant (Andy Fitzgerald), an irate agent (Stephen Marshall), a sassy, uncooperative Latina maid (Veronica Alicino) and an antsy bookie who needs to get paid (Jim Shipley). And if Louie can't sell his screenplay, he's going to lose his $2 million mansion. Problem is, Louie's script is an unconvincing romantic comedy. Pressured by the others, Louis deftly switches a character name and suddenly his show becomes a pornographic gay musical before his agent shuts it down. Solms keeps the mood light by injecting ghostly appearances from Louie's adorable Jewish parents (Michael Edelstein and Beth Lane) and high school girlfriend (Mor-gan Smith Feldman) into his tormented scenes of angst. While the show has an uneven and nightmarish mise en abyme quality (this time a screenplay within a play), there are plenty of sitcom gags, puns, one-liners and spiky banter. Director Brian Drillinger wrestles with a pastiche of styles, emphasizing broad comedy tinged with hysteria, while Stephan Smith Collins gives showstopping turns in various clichéd roles. (Pauline Adamek). Thursdays-Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays, 7 p.m. Continues through Sept. 4. Edgemar Center for the Arts, 2437 Main St., Santa Monica, (310) 399-3666, edgemarcenter.org.

GO Romeo and Juliet: Monsters in Love This family-friendly spectacle transforms Shakespeare's tragedy about lovers into a musical romp in which slapstick prevails and the doleful denouement turns into a cautionary "this-coulda-happened-but-fortunately-didn't" ending. As is often the case with family entertainment, it's the theatrical embellishments that shine. Adapted and directed by Cynthia Ettinger, the production's premise is that the audience is watching a troupe of Transylvanian monsters perform their interpretation of the play -- staged outdoors in a park setting. The Friar (the likable and effective Donna Jo Throndale) narrates with merry panache. Dressed in an embroidered emerald-green robe, she acts as intermediary with the audience as well as perpetrator of the upbeat finale. The rest of the ensemble -- company veterans and a few youthful interns -- merrily dance and cavort their way through the storyline, to a mix of mostly rap and rock rhythms, in tandem with Will Schuessler's droll sound design. The monster theme doesn't quite play, and I've seen cleverer parodies, even for kids, but the execution is entirely polished and the show is as fun as intended. Designer Lynne Marie Martens' mélange of colorful costumes and the performers' delightfully diverse makeup (as is Christiane Georgi's animated choreography) add considerably to the mirth. (Deborah Klugman). Saturdays, Sundays, 11 a.m. Continues through Aug. 28. Media Park, 9070 Venice Blvd., Culver City, (310) 836-1040.

Sganarelle, or The Imaginary Cuckold Molière's lusty farce suffers in the hands of an uneven ensemble that can't quite harness the collective high energy upon which the comedy relies. The text, a new version translated and adapted by Frederique Michel and Charles A. Duncombe, includes plenty of deliciously ridiculous material about prideful men and jealous women, but the production misses too many beats to do the material justice. Young Celia (Lena Kouyoumdjian) loves the dashing Lelio (Justin Davanzo) and the pair intend to wed, despite the protestations of Celia's father, Gorgibus (Tim Orona). Sganarelle (Bo Roberts) is happily married to Madeleine (Cynthia Mance). Trouble comes to all four lovers in the form of bad assumptions and faulty conclusions, errors in judgment that threaten to destroy their relationships. Shortsightedness leads to emotional reactiveness, which leads to giant, impassioned displays of terrible, toddler-like behavior. This would all be outlandishly hilarious were the pacing tight and the actors fully committed to their characters' folly. Roberts self-consciously inhabits the cuckolded Sganarelle because he struggles with the lines and with pacing that falls one step behind the rest of the cast. The standout performance comes from Davanzo, whose every appearance onstage infuses the show with the high-octane quick-handedness it requires. The women unspectacularly hold their own. Duncombe's overall production design is solid, but the lighting includes too many faces erroneously cast in shadow. (Amy Lyons). Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays, 4 p.m. Continues through Sept. 4. City Garage, 1340 1/2 Fourth St., Santa Monica, (310) 319-9939. citygarage.org

Small Engine Repair Laced with casual expletives, John Pollono's one-act play packs a powerful punch. When a trio of longtime mates from Manchester, New Hampshire get together for some heavy drinking in Frank's car mechanic workshop -- David Mauer's beautifully realized set -- they reminisce about old times and chat about women, the internet and the virtues of social networking. The pals, confident Frank (John Pollono), ladies man Swaino (Jon Bernthal) and nervy guy Packie (Michael Redfield) indulge in trading insults and mocking digs as they chew the fat. Inappropriate comments, harsh words and hasty apologies are exchanged, but nobody's sure why Frank is busting out the good whiskey. A young college kid (Josh Helman) arrives to do a quiet drug deal with Frank and all of a sudden the scene erupts into terrifying violence. Pollono's script is an exquisitely-modulated gem of a play, gripping the viewer with a storyline that is both shocking and sobering in its commentary on modern interactions in the technological age. Director Andrew Block extracts such realistic performances from his cast that we almost forget we are watching a play, as the appalling action unfolds mere inches away. (Pauline Adamek). (No perfs Aug. 5 & 20.) Fridays, Saturdays, 8 p.m.; Sundays, 7 p.m. Continues through Aug. 27, roguemachinetheatre.com. Beverly Hills Playhouse, 254 S. Robertson Blvd., Beverly Hills.

Spider's Web In a heritage museum of the not-too-distant future, one can easily imagine an exhibit -- located somewhere between the working blacksmith shop and the demonstration of the manual typewriter -- of an antique curio known as the "West End Mystery." A kindly docent might explain how mystery novelists such as Agatha Christie married the genre's red herrings and drawing-room conventions to a fusty Edwardian dramaturgy in comedy-thriller puzzlers represented by director Bruce Gray's staging of Dame Agatha's Spider's Web -- a one-dimensional work of pure surface whose success or failure rides on the ability of an ensemble to misdirect an audience from its creaking plot mechanics through the amusing mannerisms the actors lend its eccentric, English-gentry archetypes. The docent might point out such genre hallmarks as the picture-perfect realism of the country manor set (designer Jeff G. Rack); a murky mix of motives including drug trafficking, hidden treasure and a child-custody dispute; a colorful, subterfuge-prone heroine (Julie Lancaster); her quick-minded guardian (David Hunt Stafford); a doddering family friend (Philip Persons); a keen-eyed detective inspector (Richard Hoyt Miller); and, oh yes, a corpse (Umberto Pecorino). Before shuffling his indifferent charges on to the automatic-record-changer phonograph display, the docent might wryly note how the otherwise workmanlike production only leaps to life whenever Amy Tolsky takes to the stage as meddling gardener Mildred Peake, in a delightfully quirky performance worthy of Elsa Lanchester. (Bill Raden). Thursdays-Saturdays, 7:30 p.m.; Sundays, 2 p.m. Continues through Aug. 28. Theatre 40 at the Reuben Cordova Theater, 241 Moreno Dr., Beverly Hills, (310) 364-0535, theatre40.org.

Sylvia "Always remember your dog is a dog . . . and woman names make trouble," a stranger (Tom Ayers) warns Greg (Stephen Howard), an empty nester in the thrall of a Labradoodle named Sylvia (Tanna Frederick). The stray bitch solicited Greg at the park, bounded into his Manhattan apartment and immediately made enemies with his wife (Cathy Arden), a smart careerist blonde just getting settled into having the house - and her husband - to herself. Greg, naturally, struggles to stick to the man's advice. So, too, does the audience, as the dog is played by a redhead in a tutu who references The Odyssey and calls Greg her "knight in shining armor." What man could resist? Underneath the tutu, Frederick wears kneepads and with good reason for two hours, she crawls, leaps, and tumbles with the humans taking turns dragging her around the stage. It's a showy gig and director Gary Imhoff has Frederick - an actress of boundless energy - frolic as if failure meant the pound. If you find Frederick too manic, as I certainly did, you soon side with the missus in wanting to call the dogcatcher. Playwright A.R. Guerney's decision to make a human play canine sharpens the love triangle between man, woman and beast. When Frederick sprawls spread-eagled on the ottoman, what wife wouldn't glare? But Gurney's smart observations about the cross-species bond clash with his sell-out, feel-good ending (was he afraid dog lovers would torch the building?), a flaw further thrown out of whack by Imhoff's need to earn laughs by any means necessary, even updating the 1995 script with Sarah Palin jokes and a dance break to Lady Gaga. By the time the cast takes their final bow to "Who Let the Dogs Out?" all but the most dog-obsessed are eager to vow their allegiance to Team Cat. (Amy Nicholson). Fridays, Saturdays, 7:30 p.m.; Sundays, 5 p.m. Continues through Sept. 18. Edgemar Center for the Arts, 2437 Main St., Santa Monica, (310) 399-3666, edgemarcenter.org.

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